


A Tale Of Treason

by 50shadesofmeme



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Gen, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-19
Packaged: 2018-05-27 13:00:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6285571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/50shadesofmeme/pseuds/50shadesofmeme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Backrow Duo are the best interns you could ask for. Doing paperwork, coffee runs etc - Except they're not interns. They're mediocre detectives, hoping to prove that they have what it takes; a passion heaped with a desire to solve their first case. But what happens when Harry and Ron uncover a truth at the peak of unfortunate circumstances?<br/>[Detective/Police AU, Muggle World] [No planned pairings as of yet]</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Backrow Duo

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this in-progress story. I will update on information such as ships and possibly ratings once applicable, as nothing of that nature if planned yet, it just depends on how this goes. Thank you again!

"They say that you can learn a lot about a bloke from the way he presents himself. Should he have a regal posture, dapper fashion and a polished shoes – Then he's a dead fucker walking."

The daily antics of the office weren't particularly exhilarating. At 6AM the majority of tired workers would pool in and crowd around their desks, unable to function until an intern supplied a steaming brew of coffee. Once the rejuvenating process was over, a fuss would be kicked up to greet everyone scattered around the workplace, sometimes with the inclusion of small talk. Shortly after the boss would enter the premises with something or another to whine about, then dump a load of paperwork on the backrow duo.

That was the cleverly devised nickname for them was. 'Backrow Duo' – A couple of rundown kids with high hopes in the business, yet with no successes to prove their work. Therefore it was only _logical_ to stash the official documents with them. It was an ever so _important_ job that really _really_ helped an individual climb the ladder of victory. If the Backrow Duo were to neglect their duties, given by the BOSS himself, what chance did they have to accomplish their dreams?

A load of shit if you asked the pair of them themselves.

Clearly the other workers needed Harry Potter and Ron Weasley to do the work for them; they couldn't risk burning off their brain cells right from the stress that came with filling in repetitive documents? Harry did see the point there, since the group of bastards needed all the brain cells they could salvage against the mental storm of an ego burning through them.

…Were Harry and Ron bitter? By God, they were bitter alright. Alas a routine became a routine, and sometimes a cry for change remained unheard for years to come. Five years into the business and neither one of them had ever been given a case themselves.

Harry peered up from his computer and squinted at his partner; Ron, on the other hand, was busying himself idly with a newspaper, leafing through the pages of an article addressing the murder of a wealthy politician. "I'm telling you Harry, these recent cases are all rich sods. You reckon there's a connection?" Ron asked, stifling a yawn with the newspaper.

"I don't know. We shouldn't be nosing around anyway, a murder case is far too… 'Advanced' for us," Harry replied sullenly, pushing his glasses up, "We've never even had involvement in a drugs bust. Apart from the time you got accused of doing 'shrooms in the back of the bus with your great-aunt Tessie."

Ron scowled at the reminder, "Still can't believe people believed it. We work in a police building yet they fell for it. Tessie's been dead for years, forget the 'shrooms for a second."

Harry released a chuckle, elbows on the desk with fingers at a steeple. "Now now, those are your superiors you're talking about. We're just sad 26-year-olds with nothing but paperwork because we're 'detective prodigies.'" Harry scoffed at the prospect, rubbing his eyes wearily.

Ron's scowl deepened, "Detective prodigies? More like deadbeats. We'd get more attention working in a fast food chain, Jesus! Didn't spend all this time studying to be known as the gay tree fuckers!"

"Gay tree fuckers? That's the first I've ever been called that. Good for you Ron, a journey of self-discovery is always beneficial in the long run. Might not help with the promotion efforts though." Harry paused thoughtfully. His friend was right, and he sure as hell couldn't deny it. Yet their options were extremely limited. "Alright… How about we, uh, do some investigating after work? Kinda just… Loiter around London until we see something dodgy; you know, something that'll make 'em take us more seriously!"

Ron couldn't believe his ears. In fact, to prove his point, he tugged at them, "Oh? What was that? …Harry, mate, I'm glad you're admitting how much you hate this shitty job and all, but your plans are terrible. Half of London is dodgy, and most of the time the police just join in for the 'banter'. I reckon our best shot is going for something no one in this place would have the balls to do." The thought was intriguing to Harry. He scratched his stubbly chin – and made a mental note to shave later – his mind whirring with intricate ideas that this debilitating job had previously destroyed.

"What I'm hearing is that we should find a case that involves the kind of scandals no one can know about. You know, the royal o-"

"This isn't an episode of fucking Sherlock Harry! Think smaller than that!"

"Fine! Uh… Okay, what was that article you mentioned earlier?"

"I didn't mention an article."

"Yeah you did, you mentioned a connection between the deaths of rich folk," Harry reached across the joint desk and snatched the newspaper out of Ron's hand, "This one! Hm… There isn't much included about the relations to other cases…

_Subsequent to the incident at the Blue Moore last Friday, it is with great regret that the Finnigan Family have disclosed the news of their beloved Seamus Finnigan's death with the general public._

_Finnigan was a local politician for an affluent borough in L-"_

"Oh yeah, I remember that! Do you reckon there are files on the case on another floor?"

"Even if there was, it'd be difficult to get to it and could cost us our jobs. Maybe result in a jail sentence, since we're stealing government information."

"Don't say it so loudly! You're right though. We need another way."

A pregnant silence fell over the two as they each attempted to conjure up their own ideal method of approaching the task. Whatever popped into their heads would either run the risk of being too dangerous or too stupid. What was more was that, without the necessary information, the Backrow Duo were limited on what they could do to uncover the mystery. Soon the Boss returned to reprimand the group on their substandard work ethic, only to find two of his 'worst' employees slacking off. To make things even worse Snape ordered the two to separate for the rest of their working hours. However, whilst Severus Snape may minimalise their schemes, he could not quell their minds.

As soon as 4PM came about, Harry declared it their opportunity to solve this case. He ambushed his ginger friend outside the building, clamping a strong grasp on his wrist and dragging him away from the pools of workers. "I have an idea."

Ron tugged his arm away from Harry until it was released from the concrete grip, "So do I. You go first though."

"The author of the article. Draco Malfoy. Why don't we pay him a visit and get what we need?"

"Yeah, that could work! A journalist makes up random bullshit anyway, so if he told someone we were poking around for information, they'd probably brush it off. We're irrelevant anyway."

"True. Your turn."

"Well-" Ron licked his lips nervously, an unmissable red tint to the shell of his ears, "I know of this woman who is supposed to be brilliantly smart and wickedly talented. I thought we could talk to her about this all? She's friends with my sister, though I don't really know what she does. I can get the information from Ginny later – Her name is, uh, Harmonica Manger? I can't remember…"

Harry arched his eyebrows, "What kind of fucking name is that? I don't think you've got that right. I think we should go to the pub and start planning first – I mean, we can't trust someone we don't know very well without at least having a plan!" Hearing it out loud made Ron question whether including a stranger was a good idea at all. Harry clicked his tongue, apparently no longer in the mood for a conversation.

"Let's start this."

**Thank you for reading! Comments welcome :)**


	2. A Plan in Motion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for reading! This chapter serves more as a filler to set the scene of a place that will be commonly referred to and visited throughout this fanfiction. As well as this, I'm hoping that this will help me ensure I keep a decent weekly update, even though this chapter was posted a few days after the first. Happy reading!

For the majority of stragglers who crossed passed with the Lion's Den Pub, it was a three-star establishment with a subpar outer appearance. The name was highlighted through use of a neon sign which flickered in and out of colour every so often, accompanied by the occasional spark from the apostrophe; a definite health hazard. Aside from the sign there were no other decorative techniques to increase the appeal of the pub. Furthermore, some of the red bricks were tinted with grey and looked as though they'd been chipped at, whilst the door seemed askew and indented, as if someone had attempted a break in.

That was why the income of new visitors was minimal. Those who did choose to venture in were most-likely stoned or intoxicated, desperately searching for a cheap place to fuck themselves over even more. Harry and Ron, for example, had been one of the rarer customers, who had selected the pub because they needed a quiet place to talk as opposed to other fouler intentions. Here they discovered the truth of the shabby pub.

The inside of the building was in pristine condition, scrubbed down to ensure the cleanliness of each individual atom. The mahogany bar top gleamed from the regular polished applied, and in turn the floor was swept clean of even the minutest speck of dust. Finally, behind the bar where the bartender could usually be found, there was an array of neatly presented alcohol brands, the mere sight able to quench the burning desire for alcohol – Or just make the decision whether or not to get wasted all the more easier. The exterior of the building served as a manipulative technique to swerve those of high-maintenance away from the establishment. Because of this it meant those who became regulars essentially entered an exclusive venue, which was why the place was a surprisingly cosy and familiar environment. Everyone knew everyone. The group huddled around the flat screen to watch the big game had a rota for who got their pick of seats, and would typically consist of Dean Thomas, Larry (poor guy, being called Larry and all) Humperdinck, Susan Bones, Alicia Spinnet, Colin something-something, Neville Longbottom and a few others no one cared about.

Harry and Ron arrived shortly after their departure from work and located their usual seats at the bar itself. As expected the pub was lifeless apart from a few nameless individuals – Most of the flat screen wankers, as Ron so fondly called them, were absent too. Whilst that was great news for the detectives, it was a concern for business purposes.

"Kinda vacant, isn't it Andy?" Harry piped up, gaining the attention of the bartender. "But it usually gets livelier in the evenings, if I remember correctly."

Andy was a brawny man of about 6'3 and spoke with a thick Scottish accent, difficult to comprehend most of the time. "Right you are Potter. I'm hopin' for it to become busier later an' all, y'know?"

Ron crinkled his nose sceptically, "Wouldn't it help if you tidied the outside up a bit to attract people? I know you're all about the whole 'exclusive access' vibe, but c'mon, this is worse than usual…"

"No way!" Andy barked, shaking his head, "Don't even say that. Or nex' time I'll be spittin' in your drink, capisce?" Ron gulped and nodded, waiting for Andy to resume tending to the alcohol display, as he had been doing so beforehand.

"Anyway... Do you have the address for that Malfoy guy?" Ron asked, procuring his phone from one of his blazer pockets. "I reckon Ginny will help us with the lady, if you think we should trust her. I'll send a text to ask where she works anyway, gimme a second – Aaaand sent!"

"Look it up for me," Harry hesitated, "And maybe… Maybe we should just get information from her. I don't even know why she'd be of use, unless she's also a journalist or something."

"Ginny said she works in forensics! Or is training to do so at least. Unlike us, she has decent credentials, whereas we just applied for a shitty job. Anyway never mind that, I was thinking that – if she's super smart and stuff – she could hack into any information we need!"

Ron's proud smile made it difficult for Harry to disagree, "Ron I don't think a stranger would appreciate being used as a hacker. But if she works in forensics, maybe she'd be able to get information on the murders – Or better yet, has worked on the case herself!"

This time it was Ron's turn to falter in confidence, as his stomach seemed to squirm with discomfort, "I don't know… I don't think she'd help a rookie detective whose gone rogue with his mate. And I think that Malfoy wouldn't spill the beans to you either, by that logic."

"So we need an alias." As Harry sipped his beverage and started to think of some identities for the pair, Ron was busy on his phone. Harry suddenly clapped his hands together with delight, "Brilliant! I'll pose as some sort of official or whatever, that way he'll assume I'm his superior. And you- You should be a journalist!"

"Okay, but what about names?"

"Just make them up. I'll be Rodger. Rodger Dennings."

"…I can't think of a name for myself!"

"Juan Pablo-?"

"Fuck off Harry, as if she'd believe I'm some sort of Mexican ginger! There aren't any!"

"That's kind of racist Ron. Just think of something when you go to interview her if that's the case."

Once again a silence slid over the two men, hazing over their social senses as they stewed around ideas. Said silence was not filled by sounds in the immediate vicinity, making Ron feel another surge of discomfort.

"Jesus, this place reminds me of a ruddy dollhouse! All spick an' span, yet empty," Ron hissed scathingly to Harry between sips of his beer, much to the amusement of the other, who indicated for Ron to lower his voice. Ron scoffed, "It's fine, Andy's buggered off to god knows where. Plus he knows I think this place is creepy. Especially since dolls are also creepy as fuck."

Harry switched his focus back to his own drink, "Makes me wonder what kind of dollhouses you had as a child." He then sipped his piquant gin and tonic smugly, smacking his lips contently at the pleasant bitterness. Ron, on the other hand, looked mortified.

"I didn't play with dollhouses. I'm a guy!" The ginger protested, face flushed as Harry snickered at him. "What? Why are you laughing?" Ron jabbed his finger at his friend accusingly, "You'd better tell me what the hell you think you're playing at, or I'll- I-"

"Will you throw one of your dolls at me?" Harry queried. His shoulders shook with suppressed laughter, and soon Harry had to lean back to avoid the wrath of Ron as he attempted to smack him. "Fine, fine; I'll tell you! Your sister, Ginny, she told me. Apparently you took quite the liking to her dolls."

Ron narrowed his eyes, "Jeez. She's lying! I – Wait, when did she tell you this?"

"Ah, the last time I saw her."

"…When you did perverted things with her?" Harry averted his gaze when he noticed Ron baring his teeth. He could only scratch his cheek sheepishly at first, since he knew Ron was bitter about the encounter he walked in on a few months back. "God Harry, you're fucking disgusting. Talking about me when you're getting dirty with my little sister, why I outta…"

"W- What?!" Harry spluttered, slamming his drink down on the bar. He effectively spilt half of it in the process. "Ron! You said you'd gotten over it! It was a onetime thing, okay?"

Ron heaved out an angry huff instead of responding, more or less an indication to Harry that Ron was slowly getting over it. Again. He watched his partner drain the remainder of his beer, then spoke again, "Look buddy, it was an accident okay?" Not the right thing to say. The green-eyed man cringed and bowed his head, hoping for the comment to have gone over Ron's head – Fat chance of that.

"An accident?! An accident?!" Ron bellowed. He grasped Harry's tie and tugged him closer, eyes alight with irritation, "How do you accidentally put your dick in my sister?!"

"R- Ron! People are staring-!"

"She looks creepily similar to your mother anyway!"

"Oh my fucking god, that's- that- Ron!" With a harsh shove, Harry was free from Ron's murderous grip, "That's revolting! T- My mum-?! No! No way! I… Fuck, I don't want to talk about this. Fuck you. I- Oh god. Oh my freaking god. Let's just… plan something. You sonova-"

"You already fucked my sister, don't insult my mother too Harry."

"That's Rodger to you, as of now. Did you get the address?"

Ron glanced down at his phone, furrowing his brows together, "Wakefield Road. That's a five minute walk, right? Here's the building…" Ron directed the screen at Harry. "Not too hard to find. Ginny still hasn't texted back though."

"Right, when Ginny texts back, you can go talk to that girl you mentioned, and I'll hunt down the reporter. On our own. That way we can get through this quicker, and you can use the time to get over what happened alright? Come to my apartment afterwards, I'll drop you a text, and we can think about what to do next." Harry and Ron simultaneously rose from their stools without another word to speak, until Harry turned to Ron again. "Just for the record, she broke up with me. Shouldn't you be telling her off for hurting me instead?"

Ron paused, before his lips curled into a sinister smirk. "This isn't some crappy rom-com Rodger. Real life doesn't work like that."

"Oh, you would know about rom-coms, wouldn't you?"

"Hey! They happen to be quality films with a diverse cast and pieces of all my favourite genres! Stop being a judgemental prick!" Harry supplied a sardonic chortle and patted Ron's shoulder as a farewell, only to have Ron place a hand on his own shoulder. "Be careful alright? Don't do anything stupid or let any information leak. If either Malfoy or Harmonica let anything slip to the police, we're fucking done for."

"I really don't think her name is Harmonica, Ron…"

"Ron? Call me Rupert."

"That's a stupid fucking name."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Even though the chapter makes it all seem slow-paced, it seems kinda rushed, which I'm sorry about! Hopefully the next chapter will be better, with the introduction of the others!


End file.
